


Only Lonely on the Inside

by XtinaJones91



Series: Wherever is Your Heart I Call Home [1]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Feels, Carol and Maria are married, Cheesy, Cliche, Drama & Romance, F/F, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Fluff, Guilt, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Lesbians in Space, Marriage, Memory Loss, Minor Angst, Reunions, Secret Marriage, Trust me on this one, Wedding Rings, really just Carol in space but whatever, the Longing Stares, the hugging, title inspired by Hootie and the Blowfish, try to change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-06 11:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18387866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtinaJones91/pseuds/XtinaJones91
Summary: She’s three galaxies and several months from C-53 when she remembers.AKA - Another take on Carol getting all her memories back and returning to Maria and Monica.NEW CHAPTER - Maria grapples with the uncertainty that having Carol back in her life brings, especially when Carol has to go and say unexpected things on inter-galactic video chats.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok...so I saw this movie for the first time about a week ago and then promptly came straight to AO3 to read allllll the Carol/Maria fic. Several days later I sat at my kitchen table and 2,000 words came out.
> 
> This is inspired by all the truly amazing works out there in this fandom. I've definitely adopted some folks' head canons as my own. And yes, I know the whole Carol getting her memories back thing has been done, but really who can resist a good reunion fic? I clearly can't.
> 
> Please enjoy the tooth-rotting fluff that lies ahead.
> 
>  
> 
> I should also mention that the title of this work comes from a Hootie and the Blowfish song that like weirdly works for this ship...it's called "Only Lonely" and you should listen to it to help you get into the Carol/Maria feels.

 

She’s three galaxies and several months from C-53 when she _remembers_ \- when the increasing number of flashes that she gets almost daily coalesce into one long, continuous reel in her head. She could feel it coming before it happened. Pieces had been starting to click together, gaps of time shrinking to sporadic patches. So it doesn’t surprise her when one night after holo-vid chatting with Maria and Monica she goes to sleep, and the next morning she wakes up with her head full of her life - _their_ life - from before the crash.

 

What does catch her off guard is the aching, immediate need she has to get back to the two of them as soon as possible. The desire overwhelms her. It is more powerful than any emotion she felt as Vers, more persistent than anything she’s felt since she crash-landed in that Blockbuster back on C-53.

 

She immediately reaches for her communicator, the one she keeps with her at all times, the one she uses whenever she can snag a spare moment to call her girls.

 

_Her girls._

 

Her heart clenches at the thought of them. How could she forget what they really were to each other for so long? How could she deny what was staring her blatantly in the face every time a new memory surfaced?

 

Her eyes blur with tears and she hastily swipes at them. There’s no time to dwell on that and the million other questions that race through her brain. She needs to focus.

 

She takes a deep breath and turns on the communicator with shaky hands. She taps a few buttons and pulls up the program Talos made for her. It lets her convert the current time of wherever she is in the universe to the current date and time back on C-53. More specifically, the time at a certain house in Louisiana. At first she’d call them at random times, forgetting that they were never on the same cycle of time, forgetting just how far away she was. Talos took pity on them (she suspects Maria begged him to help her) and now she call when she knows they’re actually awake and Monica isn’t at school.

 

The conversion takes a moment and flashes the result:  
3:21 AM

 

She sighs and sets down the device. Rational thought takes over and she realizes that calling Maria at three o’clock in the morning will just worry her. And telling her all the things on her mind right now via holo-vid doesn’t seem right.

 

No, she’ll go back home, go back to the both of them and tell them in person where she can see them and hold them and never let them go.

 

Out of what she thought was a habit to reach for her dog tags, but now knows was to reach for something else that she used to wear, she reaches for the phantom feeling of a chain around her neck, and a solid metal band that would rest on her chest near her heart. It’s not there right now, but it feels real enough that it settles her.

 

She closes her eyes and exhales, thinks about what she’ll say when she goes back, imagines what their reactions will be like when they see her and she tells them she remembers it all, remembers their family.

 

Her eyes open and she swings her legs over the edge of her bunk. She has a new purpose now, and it’s time to get to work so she can go home.

 

 

* * *

  


She tells Talos but she doesn’t tell anyone else, not even Fury. Talos _gets it_ without her having to explain or say anything at all. He, too, was separated from his family for a long time. He knows what it feels like to be apart from them, to want nothing more than to be with them again.

 

He helps her work out the coordinates of the flight path she’ll need to take when they finish helping the latest group of Skrull refugees settle into their new home. He reminds her to rest and eat and sleep when she throws herself into their work, a relentless force that no one else can keep up with.

 

_“They aren’t going anywhere,” Talos reminds her._

 

And while she knows that in her heart, there’s a small part of her that worries they will get tired of waiting for her, that one day they’ll stop answering her holo-vid calls, that they’ll move on with their lives and forget her like she forgot them.

 

It’s foolish, she knows, but she can’t help the doubt that creeps in at night while she lies in bed alone and thinks about the six years of suffering she put them through when she disappeared.

 

How can you forgive someone for that? How can they take her back after all this time and all the pain she caused?

 

But then she sees their grainy but still beautiful images on her holo-vid, hears their voices - Monica’s laugh, loud and high-pitched, Maria’s low-timbered murmur and sarcastic quips - and it all feels so _right_ that she knows it is worth the risk of rejection. They - her family - are worth everything.

 

As the time draws near for her to go, for her to finally be with them again, she gets antsy and edgy and “perplexingly ridiculous” as Talos calls her. She knows Maria can tell something is off, but she won’t ask her about it with Monica on the holo-vid chat. She does her best to end almost all of their calls with the excuse of needing to get back to work so that Maria can’t get her one on one.

 

On their last call before she blasts off this planet, Monica asks what she asks every time they talk:

  
_“When will you be home, Auntie Carol?”_

 

She really drags out the word ‘home,’ practically whines it, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at the girl.

 

Before, when she hadn’t gotten all her memories back yet, it used to break her heart each time Monica asked the question. But now...now it fills her up and brings her joy because when she answers it’s the truth.

 

“Soon, LT, soon.”

 

Before Monica can pester her for more specifics, Maria shoos her away to finish her homework. And suddenly it’s just the two of them on the holo-vid. Her palms grow sweaty and she bites her lip, tries to hold back all the truths and confessions that threaten to break free.

 

There’s a beat of silence and the holo-vid crackles. The image shakes and then Maria comes back into pixelated focus.

 

The hologram version of her best friend, her partner, her lover, her _wife_ tilts her head and considers her. Despite the light years between them, she feels like Maria stares straight into her soul.

 

She ducks her head and tries to hide from Maria’s penetrating gaze, afraid she’ll reveal too much just by looking at her, but it’s a fruitless endeavor.

 

 _"Where’s your head at, girl?”_ Maria asks, her tone concerned, knowing, gentle.

 

 _Baby_ , her brain supplies. _You used to call me baby._

 

And there’s a thousand and one other things she could say in response, but she can’t, doesn’t.

 

“On C-53,” she says instead. It’s the closest to the truth she can come to. “With you and the Lieutenant.”

 

Maria’s concerned frown softens into a smile.

 

“ _We’re_ **_fine_** _. You don’t got to worry about us.”_ _  
_

  
“I can’t help it,” she replies and shrugs sheepishly.

 

_“Focus on your whole saving-the-world-one-Skrull-at-a-time thing so you can keep that promise you made and come back to -- visit us soon.”_

 

She doesn’t miss the halt in Maria’s voice, the beat where she so clearly was going to say something else, something Maria doesn’t think she’s ready to hear.

 

She grins, can’t stop her heart from soaring in her chest. _Soon._ It repeats itself in her head, a steady thrum. Soon. Soon. _Soon._

 

“I’ll be there before you know it,” she says back. And before they can get to the part of the call where they drag out their goodbye, wait for the other one to make an excuse for needing to go, she takes a leap of faith and nose dives.

 

“I love you.”

 

She clicks off the call before Maria can respond, before she can see her reaction, slips the communicator into her suit and stands. She flips her helmet down and strides toward the rear of the ship’s loading bay.

 

Talos’ voice fills her headset as the ramp lowers and the vastness of space opens up before her.

 

“Ready to go home?” Talos asks.

 

Her only response is a whoop and a shout as she sprints down the gangplank and launches herself outward and upward, a trail of sparks in her wake.

 

 

* * *

  


 

She comes to a skidded landing across the front yard. There’s a long path of scorched grass she knows she’ll get scolded for later, but right now there’s only one thing on her mind.

 

She pushes herself up from the ground, nearly stumbles in her excitement as she slides off her helmet.

 

It’s early evening and the sun is just setting behind the house.

 

She brushes herself off as best as she can. Her heart thumps wildly in her chest - a combination of adrenaline from the flight mixed with raw nerves and anxious anticipation.

 

She strides purposefully toward the house, grins broadly as the porch lights flick on. Her pace quickens to a jog and then she’s across the yard as Monica opens the front door and catches sight of her. A happy shriek fills the air and Monica launches herself off the porch steps.

 

She’s there to catch her and swings her up into her arms. Monica chatters a mile a minute as if they haven’t talked nearly every day for the past four months. She lets her go on, revels in the novelty of seeing and hearing her in person instead of as a holographic projection, fights back the tears that gather in the corners of her eyes.

 

“I missed you, kid,” she breaks in, interrupts Monica’s stream of questions and updates and proclamations of _‘I knew you’d come back!’_

 

Monica squeezes her and rests her head on her shoulder.

 

“I missed you, too.”

 

She tilts her head forward and nuzzles Monica’s nose with her own. Then she looks up to the house, to the porch where her partner stands, arms crossed, body tense.

 

Maria’s face is a mask. She needs to go to her, needs to smooth the furrow from her brow, banish the wounded look in her eyes, the fear that this isn’t real.

 

She sets Monica down on the grass with a peck to the head and walks up the porch steps - one foot at a time, slow and measured.

 

The sounds of the bayou evening fade away to a low hum. There is only the sound of her heart as it beats in her chest, pumps the blood through her veins that sings for one person and one person only.

 

She reaches the top step and Maria’s arms fall to her sides.

 

“Did you wreck my lawn?” Maria asks, but it comes out shaky and not at all teasing.

 

“I was kinda in a hurry,” she explains as she reaches for Maria’s hands and twines their fingers together to stop her own from trembling.

 

“Oh yeah, why’s that?”

 

“Had something important I needed to do.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

She tugs Maria forward with one hand and slips the other around the back of her head.

 

“Kiss my wife,” she breathes out into the air between them.

 

There’s a moment where their eyes meet and then she moves first, or Maria does, or they both do. It doesn’t really matter to her because Maria’s lips are on hers, soft and warm and inviting. Behind them Monica cheers and then wraps her little body around them both and everyone is definitely crying but they’re happy tears, and she doesn’t mind at all that she has to break away from Maria to make room for their daughter because she’s here, with them.

  
She’s finally _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, so cheesy. I hope you guys liked this little piece. I'm thinking of potentially expanding it to another chapter, or possibly doing a series of Captain Marvel one shots based off of Heart songs/80s classics because why not.
> 
> I like to make playlists for my ships, so if anyone has some recs for Carol/Maria tunes send 'em my way.
> 
> I'd also love to hear what you think of this if you feel so inclined.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow you guys...I don't even know what to say. Thank you so much for the warm reception this little story has received. Your comments and kudos mean everything to me. I love this fandom already and I've only been part of it for just over a week.
> 
> I really had no choice but to continue this piece - Maria's side of things needed telling. I spent all week working on this, staying up wayyyy too late, writing on the bus and the train and whenever I could. This ship has completely consumed me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the second part of this as much as the first.

 

_“I love you.”_

 

Carol's last words on their holo-vid chat echo across the room. She's glad she sent Monica downstairs so she can cope with this in private, try to process what she's just heard.

 

The way she said it was so casual, so _Carol_ , like she'd been saying it every day for the past six years and change, like nothing had ever happened.

 

But it wasn't just that. There was a weight to it, a light in Carol's eyes when she'd said it that she hadn't seen since the fateful morning Carol had kissed her and Monica goodbye, gone off to work like any other day and _died_.

 

She's not dead, she reminds herself. She never was. Just _gone_.

 

The semantics don't matter to her when the absence was still felt so keenly, when she'd wake up and reach for Carol's side of the bed only for it to be empty and cold, when Monica would ask for stories, ask to go through the boxes of photos and old t-shirts and tape decks, would go around in that damn jacket she didn't have the heart to shove away in a box or the back of her closet.

 

She lived with a constant ache in her chest, for _six years_ , praying it would dull with time but it never did. And then her best friend, her partner, her lover, her _wife_ just strode across their yard and back into their lives, still cocky, still beautiful, still frustrating as all hell, but not quite the same. Not quite _her_ Carol.

 

So a new ache took residence in her heart, one of longing, one of hope, one full of what-might-have-beens and unanswered questions. Because Carol didn't remember. At least not everything. And that's honestly what had hurt the most. All she had was _flashes_ when Maria had whole home movies looping in her head, taunting her with their clarity.

 

She saw how torn up Carol was about all of it - her manipulation at the hands of the Kree, the violation of her body and her mind. She couldn't be the one to add to that burden while she was struggling with so much already. She wouldn't put that on her.

 

But there was also a part of her that was afraid.

 

Afraid that if she told Carol the truth, told her what they really had been to each other, that Carol wouldn't believe her. Or worse, that she no longer felt the same way. It was impossible to know for certain, and she told herself it was easier for everyone, better for everyone, if she kept the truth to herself.

 

And didn’t that make her just as bad as the Kree who lied to Carol, who made her believe she had no past, who restrained her and controlled her and kept things hidden from her?

 

She tried not to think too hard about it, but the guilt gnawed at her.

 

What it came down to was that she would rather have Carol in her life in whatever way she could than not at all. She'd already tried that and it damn near killed her, nearly broke their family apart.

 

She was slowly coming to terms with all this during Carol's current absence from Earth when Carol had gone and said _that_ , when she'd become all dodgy and cryptic and short on their recent holo-vid calls. Carol was an excellent bluffer, but Maria knew all her tells. Perhaps Carol had forgotten this, like she'd forgotten so much else.

 

She knew something was up almost two weeks ago, but could never confront her about it. Until today. Carol clearly had something on her mind and was distracted; she got lazy and let Maria finally catch her one on one. She took advantage of her opportunity and asked the one question she had any shot of getting a straight answer to:

 

_“Where’s your head at, girl?”_ she had asked, almost slipping up and calling her ‘baby’ out of habit.

 

Carol’s response was short. Sweet and touching, yes, but still barely an answer. Fear gripped her heart. Was this the moment where it would all fall apart? Where Carol would start to pull away?

 

She was so consumed by this thought, so terrified at the prospect of it that she wasn’t fully paying attention to Carol’s next words, wasn’t ready when she said them, wasn’t prepared to respond.

 

Carol didn’t give her a chance to.

 

She had put the words out there, let them travel across light years and light waves through a patchy holo-vid stream that never did justice to the brightness of Carol’s eyes, the shine of her hair, the luminous flash of her smile. And Maria had grabbed for them, tried to hold onto them and say them back, say anything at all, but she was a moment too late.

 

How long could this dance go on, she wondered. How long could they avoid the inevitable?

 

Maria hoped to whatever god or gods were out there in the universe that it would all work out, that somehow, some way, Carol would return to her. Not as Vers and not as the woman who had left four months ago - more Carol than Vers, but still in a state of flux. No, she wanted - _needed,_ so desperately needed - the pain in the ass woman she had chosen to be her partner in everything, in life and in love and in whatever came their way. She was strong on her own, but Carol made her better, lifted her up and shouldered the burden when she couldn’t do it alone.

 

She was so damn tired of doing it alone.

 

She needed her wife back.

 

* * *

  
  
Hours later, everything changes.

 

There's a streaking flash across the evening sky, an unmistakable thud shortly after that comes from the front side of the house and rattles the frames on the walls.

 

She rolls her eyes and her betraying heart leaps in her chest. Carol is as subtle as a cannon. Carol is _here_.

 

Monica must have been watching the sky because she's down the stairs and out the front door before Maria can even put down the pot she was cleaning. She takes a moment to gather herself, dries her hands and braces herself for whatever havoc Carol brings with her this time.

 

She follows in her daughter’s wake and hears Monica’s joyous shout as she crosses the threshold of the front door. Carol is there, standing in her yard. The porch lights glint off her suit and bathe her in a soft orange glow. The breath steals from Maria’s lungs at the sight and she steadies herself on the door frame.

 

She stands stock still on the porch, watches as her girls embrace and feels a pang of envy at how easily they’ve fallen back into old patterns with each other without even trying. Monica has always worshiped Carol, and Carol had loved Monica openly and unconditionally since the moment she was born. Their history was simpler, smoothed over by Monica’s youthful forgiveness and fuzzy childhood memories of a woman she used to call ‘mama’ but now only refers to as ‘Auntie.’

 

She feels like an outsider, doesn't know how to integrate herself into their happy reunion when she has no idea which version of Carol has come back to them, doesn't know how long she plans to stay. If it's going to hurt like this every time she doesn't know how she'll get through it.

 

But then Carol finds her on the porch, locks onto her like a homing beacon, looks at her like she's the signal that's been calling her home and it all just _stops_.

 

Everything around Carol blurs and fades. She's always had that effect - outshining everything and everyone else in Maria's world long before she got her powers and became a literal force of energy and light.

 

Carol sets Monica down gently and takes a tentative first step forward. All Maria can do is stare while she draws closer, takes one step and then another, each more confident than the one before. She wants to run to Carol like Monica had, wants to hold her close and feel her strong arms wrapped around her, wants to know for certain that this - that _she_ \- is real.

 

She blinks and Carol stands before her, all metal curves and wisps of golden hair. She smells of ozone and gunpowder, dirt and grass.

 

Maria speaks, somehow forms words and gets them past her lips.

 

She barely knows what she is saying, could be speaking nonsense for all she knows.

 

But Carol smiles and voices a response, reaches for her hands and twines their fingers together. She swears she feels a spark jump between them and wonders if it’s Carol’s doing or just her own imagination.

 

She asks Carol another question, tries to sound more composed than she feels, tries not to read into the way Carol’s whole face has gone soft or the way her thumbs brush lightly across Maria’s knuckles.

 

Carol answers her and everything that she has been holding in and bottling up and pretending not to feel rushes free like a dam bursting open.

 

_She remembers_.

 

* * *

 

Later, after they’ve settled Monica down and sent her to bed (she’d insisted on a story from her Auntie Carol who was more than happy to oblige), cleaned the remaining plates from the dinner table (the third place setting doesn’t escape Carol’s notice), and turned off all the lights downstairs, they stand in what used to be - what will once again be, Maria hopes - their bedroom.

 

Carol speaks first, breaks the slightly tense silence that’s fallen over them while they both struggle with what their next move should be, trying to figure out how this is all supposed to go.

 

“Where's my ring?” Carol asks, glances down at Maria's hands, scans her neck, searches nervously for Maria's own silver band. “Where's _your_ ring?”

 

It’s not what Maria was expecting, but she runs with it, let’s Carol lead though she needs some stabilizing. She grabs Carol's hands, steadies her and squeezes reassuringly before she careens off the edge.

 

“Hey. Look at me.”

 

Carol lifts her head, eyes wide and a touch frantic.

 

“They're right over there,” she answers, inclines her head at the dresser. “Both of them.”

 

Carol's eyes dart in the direction Maria has indicated. Maria quirks a fond smile; she's very one-track minded tonight, her space-travelling wife.

 

She tugs Carol along with her to the dresser. She clearly needs to settle this now and put Carol’s mind at ease.

 

Carol follows, hovers behind her and just off to the side, watches intently while Maria reaches for a small, navy box embossed with the Air Force insignia. It's a box familiar to both of them - the one they got their wings in a lifetime ago. It houses something else now, something far more precious.

 

She lifts the lid open carefully, and far too slowly for Carol's liking if her nervous fidgeting is any indication. She used to spend a lot of time with this box, used to sit in the dark with it open on the bed and hold the rings in her palm, feel their solid weight like an anchor, the only thing tethering her to the world some days.

 

Her eyes fall on the box’s contents. From behind her she hears Carol’s sharp inhale and shaky exhale.

 

The rings are a perfect contrast of each other - Carol's is smooth, dark gunmetal, scorched but not bent, battered but not broken; hers is graceful silver, seemingly delicate but deceptively strong.

 

They rest on deep navy velvet padding inside the box, linked together by a simple platinum chain. With practiced, familiar motions she unclasps the chain, places the rings in her upturned palm and gently slips them free. She returns the chain to the box, clicks it shut and relishes in what she hopes is the final time she will ever need to open it for this purpose. She runs her thumb around the rings, their shape and feel intimately familiar to her.

 

Through all this Carol hasn’t said a word, has stood by her and let Maria do what she needed to do. She feels Carol’s gaze on her now, heavy and expectant.

 

Maria turns to face her partner, the rings between them in her outstretched hand.

 

“Do you remember when we first got these?” she asks, voice quiet, afraid to hear the answer.

 

Carol steps forward into her space, reaches for her and rests her hands on her waist. Her voice cracks when she starts to speak, strengthens as she goes on.

 

“Mine kept slipping off every time I did the dishes and we had to call a plumber three times in one week and you said ‘ _Danvers, just take the damn thing off_ **_before_ ** _you start doing the dishes._ ’ And I said --”

  
  
“‘ _That’s Mrs. Rambeau-Danvers to you._ ’”

 

Carol’s grip on her waist tightens, fingers pressed into her hips as the ghost of the memory comes to life.

 

“And then I hoisted you up onto the kitchen counter, ready to have my way with you --”

  
  
“But then Monica shouted for one of us from upstairs, had a nightmare or something, which killed the mood _real_ quick, so I had to go deal with that while you finished cleaning up.”

  
  
Carol groans at the memory. “I love that girl, but she has _horrible_ timing.”

 

“You made it up to me later though, if I recall correctly.”

  
  
“Mhm,” Carol hums in agreement, cants her body forward. “I recall that part _very_ well.”

 

Their eyes lock and they breathe each other in, the air around them charged as they both get lost in their mutual recollection, in the anticipation of the physical reunion they know will come later.

 

Carol is the one to break eye contact first. Her eyes drop to Maria’s hand, the one now wrapped into a fist around their rings.

 

“So…” Carol drawls, shifts from cocky to nervous. “Can I...will you…”

  
  
“You tryna ask me to marry you again, Danvers?”

 

“Well you _did_ kinda steal my thunder the last time. And it’s _Rambeau-Danvers_. At least to us. That is, if you’ll have me, the both of you. If you still want to be --”  
 

“Yes,” she cuts in, demanding and certain. “Always yes.”

 

Carol breathes out a shaky laugh of relief.

 

“Oh thank the gods. I was worried I’d flown all the way from Sector 7 for nothing.”

 

She swats at Carol; the both of them grin widely, tears glistening in their eyes.

 

“Shut up and kiss me, Mrs. Rambeau-Danvers.”

 

Carol obeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! Thank you for reading.
> 
> This is not the end for this story - I have a multi-chapter companion piece in the works that explores their relationship pre-movie (and pre-this story), so keep an eye out for that soon. There will be even more feels and the Rambeau-Danvers family fluff we all crave.
> 
> Not to plug Hootie and the Blowfish, but I do recommend checking out their song Only Lonely. I listened to it a lot while writing this which I'm sure is going to mess up my Spotify recommendation algorithms...
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, please drop a note if you'd like, or find me on tumblr - tatooine-xtina (it's pretty much just reblogs of Brie Larson content)
> 
>  
> 
> Higher, further, faster baby


End file.
